Maybe if I can lure them away…
She flung the rifle on the seat and hit her horn. Once. Twice. Three times.
More of the infected peeled themselves from the walls of the furniture shop, joining the others in pursuit of the pickup. She hit the horn again, but this time she held it down, the tone blaring into the air and drowning out the sounds of the creatures.
The forerunners of the group were within feet of the vehicle, and she hit the gas and sped back toward the road, keeping one step ahead of them. The things faltered and fell as they lunged for the bed of the vehicle.
“Come on!” she screamed as she diverted them from the building.
She stared in the rearview at the furniture shop, but there was still no indication that John had heard her, or even that he was alive. Almost all of the creatures had fled the structure.
Having successfully gained their attention, she toggled the gas and brake, leading them step-by-step away from the premises and back into the road.
As she watched them in the mirrors, Meredith realized that she recognized many of the faces. Jerry Winsted. Harold Coleman. Mary Beth Cooper.
All of them were snarling and red-eyed, mouths agape. She glanced back at the rifle. Even if she had enough bullets, could she really shoot these people? She didn’t think so. A tear slid down her cheek.
Everything seemed so unreal. How could this have happened so fast? And how had she escaped it? Was John was one of them already?
The pickup hit the pavement, entering the main road. The creatures—all of her former friends and acquaintances—were still in tow.
Meredith glued her eyes to the lone, deserted building behind her, waiting for a sign that the man she loved was still alive.
But there was nothing.
“I’m sorry, John,” she whispered.
All intentions aside, she must’ve gotten there too late. Maybe there’d never been time at all.
A second later, just as she’d given up, she saw something in the driver’s side mirror.
The door of the furniture shop had opened to a crack, exposing a bloodied hand, and a man’s voice was screaming her name.
12
Dan crashed the Buick through a café window, shattering the glass and sending shards of debris over the hood of the vehicle.
“Get down!” he yelled to the two frightened girls in the backseat.
As soon as the vehicle came to a stop—the front half wedged in the store’s entrance, the rear exposed on the sidewalk—he flicked on the headlights, brightening the store’s interior, and opened the driver’s side door.
Dan glanced over the seat behind him. Sandy and Quinn were huddled together, their lips quivering. Through the rear window he saw a flurry of hands pawing at the vehicle.
“Climb over the seat! Hurry!”
He reached out and grabbed the girls, one at a time, helping them over. Then he ushered them through the open front door and got out himself. He withdrew his pistol. Several of the creatures had made their way to the side of the vehicle, and he squeezed off a few suppressive shots, knocking them back.
“Run!” he shouted.
Sandy and Quinn took off to the back of the store. After firing a few more rounds he followed suit.
Dan weaved through a maze of chairs and tables, doing his best to ignore the groans and shuffles of the creatures behind him. He glued his eyes on a door in back. If they could reach it, they’d have a chance at escape.
His daughter made it to the door first. She tried the handle, and to his relief, the door swung open. Her and Sandy raced into the darkness beyond.
Dan was right on their tail; a second later he was through the doorway. He slammed the door and fumbled for the lock. Without power, the room was pitch black, and he slid his hands frantically around the door’s surface while bodies slammed the other side.
Finally he found a bolt at the top and slid it into place.
He turned to locate the girls, but could see nothing in the darkness.
“Quinn? Sandy?” he hissed.
He felt a hand tap his arm, and he jumped before realizing it was his daughter.
“I can’t see anything, Dad. I’m scared.”
The pounding on the door had increased in volume, and he could barely hear her whispered words.
“It’ll be ok, honey. We just need to find the back entrance.”
He took hold of her hand and led her deeper into the darkness, holding out his pistol at arms length. From the other side, he felt Sandy take hold of his arm.
He bumped something with his waist, and he grabbed onto it, determining that it was a shelf. He slid his hands along the smooth edge and followed it toward what he hoped was the back of the store.
Sweat poured down his face in droves. In the enclosed space they were in, the air was thick and humid. The stench of rotting food clogged his nostrils, and he held his breath to avoid the smell.
When they reached the end of the shelf, he struggled for balance, his feet crunching unseen objects. Finally his hand hit a wall, and he felt around it until he located the outline of a door.
He was still searching for the handle when the door behind them crashed inwards. Light flooded the room, and when he looked back, he saw a tangle of bodies plowing toward them.
“Let’s go!” he shouted to the girls.
He found the handle and threw the door open.
A second later they were in the open air, the sun shining down upon them as they raced across an empty parking lot.
Quinn still clenched his hand, but Sandy had taken the lead, sprinting several steps ahead of them.
“Sandy!” he shouted. “What’re you doing?”
The girl forged ahead as though she hadn’t heard him, her shoes slapping the pavement. He yelled for her again. Finally she glanced back.
“Follow me!” she cried.
Dan felt Quinn’s hand slipping from his fingers. Despite his attempts to pull her onward, she was having trouble keeping up. A crash erupted from behind them.
The creatures had made it outside.
He kept his eyes glued to Sandy, watching her hurdle a distant curb. Beyond it was a brick building with four metal exit doors. Dan recognized the rear entrances to a small shopping center. The girl was heading right for them.
To his surprise, rather than aiming at one of the doors, she was heading in the direction of a green metal dumpster. The top was open and folded to the side.
If the girl were to hurl herself inside, she’d immediately be trapped.
“Sandy—no!” he shouted.
Behind them, the things were narrowing the gap. Footsteps drummed the asphalt; hungry cries escaped into the air. Every few seconds Dan heard the crash of the door they’d left through, repeatedly pounding the wall as a new surge of creatures passed through it.
He had no idea how many of the things were in pursuit, but judging by the noise alone, it sounded like an army.
Sandy had reached the dumpster. Dan watched in dismay as she vaulted up the side, clung to the edge, and then pulled herself up and over.
He risked a glance over his shoulder. The road behind them was a stampede of bodies. A few of the creatures had set their sights on the dumpster.
“Sandy! Get out of there!”
He screamed the girl’s name, but she didn’t respond.
Dan was starting to outpace Quinn. He could feel her lagging behind, stretching his arm like a piece of rope. For a split second he wished he could carry her, but even if they had time to pull off the maneuver, he doubted they’d move any faster.
The dumpster was only twenty feet away. He had a decision to make.
He could either go after Sandy, risking the lives of him and his daughter, or he could search for an alternate place to hide.
The rear entrances would be their best bet, but there were no door handles. From his experience, he knew they usually opened from inside.
He surveyed the remainder of the parking lot. There were two other building
s, one on either side of the building they were running toward. Both had alleyways in between. Their best bet was to slip down one of the alleys. Hopefully they could lose some of the creatures; perhaps they’d even find a better place to hide.
The thought of abandoning Sandy made him sick, but what choice did they have?
Maybe by going in the opposite direction, they could lure some of the things away from her. Without warning, Sandy’s head appeared over the top of the dumpster.
“Dan! This way!” she screamed. “I know a way in!”
At the last second Dan changed course. He veered toward the dumpster, pulling his daughter ahead of him, and lifted her up the side. Sandy was waiting at the top, and she grabbed Quinn’s hands and hoisted her over. With his daughter in safely, Dan leapt up and grabbed the side, pushing with his forearms.
Fingers groped at his pant legs, and he fell slightly. The first wave of creatures had caught up, and the air behind him was filled with hisses and wails. He kicked the air, but each time he freed himself his legs hit another snag.
“Daddy! Grab my hands!”
Quinn and Sandy had stationed themselves at the top, tugging on his arms and shirt to facilitate the climb. Dan kicked the outside of the dumpster, found purchase, and pitched himself over the top.
He landed face-first in a pile of spilled garbage. The smell permeated his nose and lungs, and he coughed and spat.
“Over here!” Sandy shouted, beckoning to the other side of the dumpster.
Dan clambered to his feet. On the interior wall was a sliding plastic door, and the girl had opened it to reveal a dark hole beyond. She slid through the opening and disappeared inside.
Several of the creatures had thrown themselves over the lip of the dumpster, and they teetered on the edge, on the verge of getting over. Dan directed his daughter in front of him, watching her vanish into the unknown, and then took the plunge himself.
No sooner had he cleared the opening than he heard the sound of a door slamming shut behind him. The moans and undulations of the things decreased in volume, and a moment later, a light flicked on, illuminating his surroundings.
Sandy stood in front of him holding a lantern. Her soft features seemed to have hardened, and for a moment he wondered if she was older than he thought. He’d originally pegged her as sixteen, now he was starting to wonder if she was in her early twenties.
By the looks of it, they’d made it inside the building and into a storeroom. The floor was covered in boxes and display racks. A single door on the other end had been boarded up; the bottom half was blocked by a desk.
He was still taking stock of his location when a banging erupted from behind him. Sandy set down the lantern and skirted over to the door they had just come through.
“Help me barricade it,” she instructed.
She motioned him toward a three-shelved metal rack next to the exit. She took a stance on the floor and began to push, and Dan darted over to help. The rack groaned as they slid it over the cement and into place.
When they were finished, Sandy dusted her hands on her jeans.
“Do you think it’ll hold?” Dan asked her.
“It hasn’t failed me yet.”
“You’ve been here before?”
“This is where I lived for the first few days after the infection began,” she said. “I slept over there on those blankets, and I ate over there in that corner.”
She pointed to each of the locations in turn, and Dan followed her gaze. Sandy’s tone was calm and even, as if she were a realtor describing the newest property on the market. Gone was the frightened girl he had first seen on the rooftop; this new girl was confident and controlled.
Perhaps he’d found her at a moment of despair, and she’d since regained some of her fortitude.
Sandy walked to the corner and retrieved a set of folding chairs, then brought them to the center of the room and set them up for Dan and Quinn.
“I think the people who worked her used to use this as a break room. I found a pile of cigarette butts in one of the corners.” She laughed. “I even tried smoking them once when I got bored.”
Dan nodded. He stared at the chairs, but made no move to sit down. The rear entrance rattled and shook, and a chorus of fingernails scratched the exterior.
“Were there others with you?”
“No. I was alone. My parents died when I was twelve. Before all this I was living with my brother, but he didn’t make it.”
“Did he turn?”
“Yes.”
Sandy averted her eyes, and Dan knew not to press her any further. He paced the room for a few minutes, inspecting the racks and boxes, but found nothing of any use. The door was still shaking from the efforts of the creatures.
“They’ll leave when they get bored,” Sandy said. “But sometimes it takes a while.”
“How long did you say you were here?”
“A couple of days.”
“How’d you get that dumpster in front of the door?”
“It was already there. I think someone must have sealed the place off when things first started, right after people realized what was happening. I ran into a young couple in a convenience store and they told me about it. They’d been staying here for a day or so.”
“What happened to them?”
Sandy shook her head. “They didn’t make it, either.”
“What have you been eating?”
“When I was staying here, I would make trips into town and grab what I could find. At the lumberyard we have a stash of food.”
Dan told her about the contamination, and how, to the best of their knowledge, the food and water was the root cause of the infection. Then he told her about the provisions in the station wagon.
“We need to get that food back,” he said simply. “It wouldn’t be wise to trust anything else.”
The girl nodded gravely.
“I still can’t believe that Reginald left us behind like that. Hopefully he won’t tamper with what you had in the car.”
“Did you say there were ten people in the lumberyard?”
“Yes. Aside from Reginald and myself, there are eight others.”
Sandy listed off the names, but Dan didn’t recognize any of them. The town was small—though he knew a lot of the townsfolk, he didn’t know all of them.
“Has anyone talked about leaving?” he asked.
“A few have tried, but none have returned. I think everyone else is scared. One of the survivors—Hector—came from New Mexico. He said that things are even worse there, if that’s possible. They’re a good group of people. Except for Reginald, of course.”
Dan spoke about the agents, briefing the girl on everything they’d learned, and about the survivor’s they’d since parted ways with. Sandy listened intently, but didn’t appear to be surprised.
“With those men in white coats shooting people, we’ve been trying to stay hidden. This run was the first time anyone’s been out in days. We’ve been taking turns when our supplies get low, but nobody’s been rushing to volunteer. I was with a group of people and I got separated. That’s how I ended up at the bank.”
“I understand.”
Dan retrieved his pistol, which to his relief, he’d been able to keep tucked in his pants. He examined the weapon and determined he had only two bullets remaining.
“So what’s next?” Sandy asked.
Dan stared back at the door, where the cries of the creatures still rang with intensity.
“Now we wait.”
13
At the sound of John’s voice, Meredith felt her heart jump in her chest. She revved the engine of the pickup and cut the wheel, turning back in the direction of the furniture shop.
She’d successfully led the creatures a few hundred feet from the building, and while she’d prefer to have them even farther away, she knew that time was not on her side. By the looks of John—or what little she’d seen of him—he appeared to be injured and in need of help.
Sh
e couldn’t afford to wait any longer.
Before she knew it she was racing toward the building, the tires of the pickup kicking up dust and gravel. The creatures behind her had changed direction as well, but she’d bought herself a little time before they’d reach her. She needed to make this fast.
Meredith spun up next to the entrance and threw the vehicle into park, leaving the engine running. Then she opened the door and jumped out into the parking lot.
The door to the furniture shop stood ajar, but there was no sign of John. Her heart raced. Had he collapsed inside? Was he still waiting?
What if he’d turned?
In her haste, she’d forgotten her rifle on her seat. The only thing she’d been thinking about was rescuing him; concern for her own safety had gone out the window at the sight of him. But there was a real possibility that he’d been infected. That he could do her harm. In spite of her emotions, she needed to be cautious.
She edged up next to the door.
“John?” she called.
No answer. She kicked the door open with her foot, surveying the store’s interior. Almost all the furniture had been upheaved or shattered; the remaining pieces were buttressed against the doors and windows.
She called out again.
This time she heard a murmured response. John was calling her name. She burst through the doorway, heading toward the noise.
When she caught sight of the man her stomach tightened. John had wedged himself in a corner beneath a table, clutching his knees to his chest. His face was smeared with dirt and blood and his left leg looked it had been torn into. His rifle lay on the floor next to him.
“I thought you’d left,” he whispered.
Meredith felt her heart swell, and she fought back the tears.
“No. I wouldn’t do that.”
Outside, the commotion of restless bodies had grown louder. She spun and stared out the door. The herd was overtaking the building.
“We have to move.”
“I can’t. My leg…”
He pointed to his jeans, which were stained and torn just below the knee.
“We have to go!”
She reached beneath the table, took hold of his hands, and pulled him to his feet. John winced in pain, and when he stood, she noticed a puddle of blood where he’d been sitting. In the time she’d known him, she’d never seen him incapacitated like this. In her head, he’d always been her rock. Strong. Indestructible.
Contamination (Book 4): Escape Page 7
